


breathe deep, breathe slow

by thegraceinyoureyes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Choking, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraceinyoureyes/pseuds/thegraceinyoureyes
Summary: Heat creeps up the back of Nicky’s neck.





	breathe deep, breathe slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chartreuser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuser/gifts).



> me: has always headcanoned nicky as the dommest dom to ever dom  
> also me: this is the first nicky/ovi fic i post
> 
> that being said, i have roughly 60k of various (mostly) caps related fanfic on my laptop so when i get around to finishing any of it, expect to see a lot more of this kind of thing (this kind of thing being shameless porn)
> 
> completely and utterly inspired by [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ca/22/44/ca2244eab912c115e8a9291c7e3bd1fa.jpg) picture
> 
> see end of work for content warnings

The bar is indistinguishable from the thousands they’ve visited over the years, a low-ceilinged, dimly lit and undeniably American creation of booths and pool tables and flatscreen TVs showing football games on cycled loops. Nicky is comfortable here, as comfortable as he is in any of the bars or clubs where his teammates set up camp for a night. This is a regular of theirs, though, where the staff know them well enough not to roll their eyes when Holts asks them to list their craft beers for the hundredth time, or to blink at whatever Williams asks them to concoct. To keep the pitchers coming, and to look the other way when Andre gets his hands around a glass.

Nicky’s old enough - and has drunk enough in his lifetime - to have a decent grasp on his tolerance by now. There’s no team training tomorrow, but he wants to hit the gym before having lunch with friends, so he’s just finishing up his second glass, not leaning against TJ as much as TJ’s leaning on him, and only slightly fuzzy around the edges.

Alex is holding court at the other end of the table, Kuzy and Orlov and Whip all gathered close. Whip looks shocked, Kuzy is smirking and Orlov has his head in his heads. Alex is, of course, laughing uproariously, head thrown back as he smacks his hand on the table, the glasses shaking with the force of it. He looks at Nicky in the next moment, catches Nicky looking at him, and his gaze shifts from humour to speculation. There’s more than three metres between them, but Nicky feels the weight of Alex’s stare, Alex’s eyes, of _Alex_ , as if they were right on top of each other.

Heat creeps up the back of Nicky’s neck.

Pushing TJ off him - gently: letting him lean on Carly instead because Nicky is a considerate linemate - Nicky slides out the booth and heads to the bar. He needs to clear his head. It’s just the way that Alex gets to him— can _still_ get to him, after all these years. There’s something in the way Alex looks in the shadowed half-light of the bar, the way they seem so removed from the harsh brightness of the arena, how everything seems a little hazier, a little more suggestive, a little more possible, under the low lights.

A weight lands heavily across his back, a long arm draping over his shoulders, and Nicky doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

“Nicky,” Alex croons in his ear.

“Get bored of babysitting?”

There’s a rumble that vibrates through Alex’s body to Nicky’s, and Alex chuckles against his neck, turning his head to drag his lips - briefly, casually, the accidental move of a drunk teammate - over Nicky’s jaw. Nicky thinks he hides his weak knees well. Though if Alex was to see the way he’s gripping onto the bar - white-knuckled - he’d be caught out in an instant.

“Maybe I think you look lonely. Maybe I come check on you. Be good boyfriend.”

The words are mumbled, too low for anyone to hear - especially over the music - but they make Nicky’s cheeks burn all the same.

“Alex.”

Alex backs off a little, easing up his weight and standing more on his own two feet than using Nicky as a personal leaning post. “Sorry, baby.”

And there’s definitely no way Alex missed _that_ , the sharp intake of breath and the shudder that passed through Nicky at the drunken use of a casual nickname, one he has heard pass Alex’s lips maybe a thousand times.

Alex is silent.

Nicky holds his breath, staring at the lines of bottles on the wall, unseeingly; waiting.

The pause is long enough for Nicky to force himself to pick up the beer he ordered, bring it to his lips and force himself take a sip. Exaggerated care in his every moment, placing the bottle back on the bar so casually. He doesn’t relax though: he’s known Alex too long for that.

Sure enough, it comes; Alex’s hand landing firm and deliberate on Nicky’s neck. Nicky holds himself still, frozen under the pressure of the moment, feeling the condensation from the glass wet his palm, the railing along the bar digging into his hips, Alex’s weight keeping him pinned there with his body, and now with his thumb, sweeping slow and sure strokes over Nicky’s pulse. It thrums below the skin, jumping in a staccato rhythm under Alex’s steady touch.

Alex leans in closer and his breath comes hot against Nicky’s ear. Nicky cannot move. “You liked that, didn’t you.” It isn’t a question, which Nicky is grateful for. He doesn’t think he could form words even if he tried. “Calling you baby, like you’re mine to claim. Putting my hands on you and keeping you in place. It’s what you need, isn’t it?”

Nicky nods his head, a sudden, juddering movement. He spares a thought for what they look like, Alex blanketing his back, bracketing him in. Nicky, his head tipped forward and hair in his eyes. An ugly flush staining the back of his neck.

Alex chuckles, and, “I bet if I told you to, you’d let me fuck you in the bathroom right here. Take it so sweet, biting down on your own hand to stop making any noise."

Nicky can only nod, a sudden desperate, itching want stretching out under his skin, making him desperate to twist in Alex’s grip, get Alex’s shoulders under his hands just to feel the muscle there, push Alex down and take what he needs. But tonight isn’t going to go like that. Tonight he wants something—different. And Alex has never needed words to anticipate Nicky’s next play.

He shoves himself against Nicky’s back again, forcing his weight more heavily on Nicky, and presses his thumb hard against Nicky’s throat. “Would you like that, baby?”

And yeah, Nicky thinks, exhaling slow, letting his body relax under Alex’s rule, he would.

-

A hurried goodbye to their teammates - they get some serious side eye from Holts, which, fuck him - a tense cab ride later, and Alex has Nicky on his knees. There’s a hand buried in Nicky’s hair, wrapped tight, fingers wound through the strands as Alex pulls a little. He tilts Nicky’s head back to admire the arch of his pale throat in the dim bedroom light, gets him right where he wants him, and Nicky—

Nicky goes with it, pliant and soft under Alex’s guidance. Alex tugs once - just to test - and smiles at the way Nicky’s lips part.

“You look so beautiful like that, on your knees for me. So good, baby. Born to take my dick.” That earns him a baleful look, so he pulls Nicky’s hair again until he yields, and softens back down into easy submission. Lets the feeling of it settle under his skin.

With his other hand, Alex feeds his cock into Nicky’s mouth, slow and considerate as anything. Letting the head rest on Nicky’s tongue, giving him just a taste of the stretch he’ll feel later. Nicky circles his tongue around the head, presses forward to try and take more. Alex isn’t fully hard - not yet - and Nicky looks up at him. Sees the breadth, and easy strength of him. Alex is so big, like this. So all-encompassing. Nicky’s eyes are wide open, and he can feel tears beginning to prick the corners.

Alex pushes in deeper, and deeper still. Gagging Nicky on his cock, holding it against the entrance of his throat until Nicky is choking on it, until drool is sliding over his lips and down his chin. Alex is so slow. He is careful and measured and every second is an excruciating exercise in restraint. Alex has years - decades - of practice testing the extent of his control; it is a finely wrought craft by now. They’ve been doing this thing long enough, Nicky and him, that they know how this will play out. And on nights like tonight, when Alex is purposely - fiercely - in charge, this is how it goes.

“Alex." Nicky rasps, and - God - his voice is so _hoarse_.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Alex, _please_.”

Alex considers him, then carefully winds his hand tighter in Nicky’s hair, and yanks hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to jerk back Nicky’s head and expose the long line of his throat, shining damply in the low light.

“Use your words.” He parrots back the phrase Nicky has said to him countless times over the years, and Nicky can only whine in response.

“ _Alex_.” Nicky sets his gaze somewhere behind Alex, some middle distance. “Give me more. Please.”

Alex smiles, and strokes Nicky’s cheek. His big hands feel cool against Nicky’s overheated skin. “Okay, baby, I’ll give you what you need.” And he does, feeds his cock right down Nicky’s throat, pulls out and fucks in again, hard enough to bruise.

When he slips down Nicky’s throat it is embarrassingly easy. Or, it would be embarrassing, if it weren’t for the way Alex’s hands flex in Nicky’s hair, how his hips stutter forward, keeping Nicky pinned and in place and subservient. Nicky barely chokes, now, swallowing around Alex’s dick like he’s been doing it for years. Which, yeah.

Alex gives it to Nicky hard; brutal, but always measured. Always sliding out as Nicky leans forward, mouth open, following for more. Alex gives it to him. Nicky feels every thrust through his entire body. The way the movement rocks his knees against the carpet, how he has to cling to the back of Alex’s thighs, helpless to do anything but _take_ it. The way his dick is pressing against his zipper, incessant and drooling. Nicky can’t imagine what he looks like, but he feels it. His cheeks feel over-warm, eyelashes clumped with tears, mouth swollen and hot and slick with saliva and precome.

Alex’s hand shifts, slips over Nicky’s cheek to his jaw. Settles against his throat.

Nicky swallows convulsively, feeling Alex’s dick push against his neck, and, by extension, against his own palm. Drool slips from the stretched out corners of Nicky’s mouth.

“Fucking filthy, Nicky,” Alex mumbles, thumb pressed against to where Nicky’s throat is distended. He sounds awed, he sounds impressed, he sounds _proud_ , staring down at Nicky as Nicky takes his dick without complaint: easy, pliant and so, so in love.

But Alex is - and always will be - a dick, and one who lives to push Nicky, so he flexes his hand a little, where Nicky can feel it, then _squeezes_.

Nicky’s eyes almost roll back in his head at the feeling of it; teetering on the brink of pain and pleasure, of safety and danger. He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or relieved when Alex comes down his throat a moment later, fingers spasming in their white-knuckled grip on Nicky’s hair and Nicky’s throat.

He pulls out slowly and carefully, but Nicky still coughs after, eyes watering, cheeks red and tear-stained. He’s a mess. Face wet with tears and saliva and come, mouth crimson, lips criminally swollen. Alex can’t resist dragging his fingers through the mess, pressing them back inside Nicky’s mouth, just to watch Nicky’s tongue work over the pads of his fingers.

Unable, and unwilling, to ignore the urge, Alex bends to press his mouth to Nicky’s wrecked one, revelling in the mess _he’s_ made of him.

They kiss for a long moment, until Nicky makes a soft noise of protest. Alex pulls back instantly, running his hands over Nicky in concern, but stops when he sees how hard Nicky is, dick red and straining, hips working as he tries to rub off on nothing. Alex smiles; he prides himself on being a considerate lover, so sits back on the bed, grabbing Nicky by the waist and hauling him up onto his lap.

“Come on, you want to come, don’t you?” Nicky can only nod, voice lost ever since Alex wrapped his hand around Nicky’s neck, felt the outline of his dick there, pressed down.

“I’ve already given you my cock and my come tonight, you think I’d give you my hand as well?”  Nicky’s face burns. “I guess you can rub off on my thigh, though.” He slaps Nicky’s ass. “Come on.”

And - god help him - Nicky does, dragging his dick along the expanse of Alex’s thigh, throwing his head back in a thankful groan as precome makes the slide easier. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands - wants to bury his nails in his own thighs, relish in the hot-sharp bite of pain, needing _something_ \- and could almost cry with relief when Alex grabs them, thumb and forefinger wrapped around both of Nicky’s wrists. It’s too tight, the bones grinding against one another, skin turning white under the force of Alex’s grip. It’s perfect, and Nicky can’t fight it anymore.

He gives in - falling - working his hips with no thought of grace or pride, throwing his head back to moan when he feels so, so close. The indignity of it, of being able to do nothing but chase his pleasure against Alex’s leg, like he’s nothing more than an animal, crawls over his skin. It does nothing to dim his arousal.

Alex - finally, mercifully, kind - slots his hand back against Nicky’s throat. It only takes the barest pressure, a pale imitation of the earlier weight, for Nicky to come, spilling over Alex’s hip like a teenager.

When he comes down he realises he is shaking, wrapped up in Alex’s arms, and Alex is whispering tender words into his matted hair.

“C-“ He clears his throat, and it hurts. “Cleanup.”

“Later,” Alex murmurs, and he’s kissing Nicky now, raining soft barely-there kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “Go to sleep.”

Nicky breathes, and lets himself fall.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains dubcon (they have both been drinking, and at one point Alex lightly chokes Nicky without prior discussion) and breath play (Alex chokes Nicky with his hand). There is no kink-negotiation or discussion in the fic, but they are in an established relationship and it can be assumed both negotiation and aftercare happen off-screen.
> 
>  
> 
> [hit me up on tumblr to cry over these losers](http://baackstrom.tumblr.com/)


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